Remember Me?
by Unauthorizedx
Summary: Twelve years after the war in Iraq/Afghanistan officially stated, and Canada has had enough with being ignored.Who knew he would start a war, and gain an ally in Russia? Warning: superbly shitty characterization. Cancelled and never updating again.
1. I'm Canada

Russia was lonely. Oh God, how he was lonely.

Ever since Lithuania and the other Baltic states had split away from him and left his (rather massive) house, He'd had almost no one to talk to. It didn't help that all the other nations were avoiding him since he purposed that the Motherland aide in the war against Iraq and Afghanistan. It seemed the last thing everyone wanted was for him to get his hands on someplace **warm**, of all things. Well, what if he didn't want the land? What if all he wanted was to end the damn war that America had managed to drag out for twelve years? All this trouble over a few buildings...

Ivan shook his head, bringing himself back to the task at hand, which just happened to be drinking as much vodka as possible. He honestly couldn't help himself; it was how he dealt with anger and depression when there were no smaller countries around him to take it out on. He tilted his head back in an attempt to get the last dregs of the liquor before slamming it down on the desk in front of him. He glared across the darkened study at the large portrait that dominated the wall it hung on.

"_Mudak__, _so much for making Russia a great country; you only make me feared and hated," He growled. The painting didn't move, General Winter's icy gaze remained fixed on some unknown distance. Somehow, he managed to resist the urge to spit; instead, he reached for another bottle of his favourite liquor.

Barely an hour after Ivan was cut off from his drinking by his rather brave Secretary, a messenger knocked on his door. The nation straightened his coat – Not his beige overcoat today, unfortunately – and called the young man in. He shook as most did in his presence, but kept himself relatively composed as he announced that the Canadian ambassador had requested an audience with him.

"Did he say what he wished to speak of?" Ivan asked, appearing uninterested.

"No, sir," the messenger said curtly. For the life of him, Ivan couldn't seem to remember his name. _Ah well, it matters not._ "He did say he needed to speak with you immediately, though. He barely gave me enough time to alert you," a nervous laugh escaped his lips, which he sealed shut instantly. God, was there _anyone _who could speak head on to him without being so damn afraid?

"Thank you, Private. You are dismissed," He sighed and sat back in his chair when the little man left. He really didn't have the patience for people like that. He just about reached for his glass – of water, and not of the "Russian" variety – when he heard someone yelling outside the large wooden doors.

"…Let me in or…get outta my face you…like those Yankees!" Was all he managed to hear before the doors flew open and an irate Canada stormed in.

"Russia!" He yelled, slamming his fists on the desk. He was panting - probably from yelling at the guards posted outside the study – and sweat beaded on his brow. "You are one of the hardest men to get a hold of,"

Ivan was surprised at how loud and angry Mathieu was. Usually he was a very calm and polite man, only speaking when asked a question and often kept to himself - aside from Alfred, whom he was constantly getting confused with. He seemed like he had never fought a day in his life, let alone yelled at someone.

"You seem troubled, my friend," He said, wincing inwardly at his accent. He really should practice his English more. "What is wrong?"

Mathieu looked away for a moment, his hands curling into fists as he tried to calm himself. "I'm what's wrong," He managed to say. "I'm not different from America; therefore no one ever remembers what I've done for them. My culture isn't even my own, it's a mixture of every country that I've allowed in my borders. My people are considered idiots or cowards," He looked up, determination in his blue-green eyes. "And that is something I intend to change. I have had it with being the country that no one remembers. I want to write my own chapter in the history books, and I will do that in the only way the world seems to recognize things. I purpose that we wage war against America,"

Russia searched the other country's face for a clue, some hint that he was joking. He saw nothing. This country, the most silent and respectable of all of them was dead serious." What are you saying, Mathieu?" He asked, lacing his fingers together and placing his chin upon them.

Canada just grinned. "I'm saying I want your help," His grin didn't falter when Ivan laughed. He just narrowed his eyes, causing his face to look something akin to one of Ivan's own.

"Ah, what a sweet day this is; the two largest countries in the world starting a war together - and against America no less. Come, sit, we have much to discuss. I assume you brought your war cabinet with you?"

Canada just continued smiling, a ghost of a laugh escaping his lips.

X.x.X.x

"So how do you purpose we do this?" Ivan said, sitting at the head of the long table. They were in what he called his "War Room", consisting of a rather large table and various portraits of long gone Generals and the like. At either end sat the two countries, and on the sides were their bosses and various officials. Canada had regained his composure and sat calmly, smiling slightly.

"Sabotage," responded one of Canada's war advisors. The middle-aged man's voice was clear of any emotion, as was his face as he ruffled the papers in his hands.

"I beg your pardon?" called Russia's president from the other end of the table.

The Canadian advisor sat up even straighter and cleared his throat. "We have received information that the Taliban are planning on sabotaging something, ah, rather important, shall we say, of ours. On the date specified, our forces will be preparing to join the US Army in a battle not far from Kabul. It will require little effort to make it seem as if the Americans did it,"

"After which," continued the Prime Minister of Canada. "We can easily get our people on our side. There will be trust issues at first, but we can handle that,"

Ivan leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "And what will you have us do?"

Mathieu snapped out of his reverie. "I want you to support us. Ever since the Cold War you haven't been on very good terms with Alfred, am I correct?" When the Russians nodded he continued on. "Nothing major at first, of course. That would seem suspicious, considering you haven't had very much contact with the outside countries for awhile. When things become more serious, I will request military aid," The blonde paused and looked over the rims of his glasses. "Will you?"

"_Da_, we will," Ivan responded immediately. He never really cared for the American, really. Too noisy. "By the Motherland," The other Russians repeated the oath in unison.

All the while, Mathieu smiled.

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A/N: WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN-

Yeah. I'm terribly sorry this sucks so much. I honestly didn't really pay attention to this much while I was writing this and I haven't written in a few months...Not to mention I don't have a well. Parentals said it was fine,so it's all good. Also, this is Canadian grammar...yeah it's different STFU.

And I'm really sorry for making Canada/Mathieu so OOC. But really, no one notices him. He needs to grow a pair of balls. U

_Mudak_is a Russian term for "testicle", but it can also be used to say Asshole and...something else,I forget.

Reviews would be nice~ they could totally help inspire me with the second chapter.


	2. I'm your brother

Canada sighed and massaged his temples. The stress of the past few months were getting to him, it seemed, and no matter how well things were going, having his southern borders closed off completely was having a toll on him and his economy.

Sure, thousands of new jobs were opened, and international trades were doing amazing, there was a price to pay, and that price was rather high. But just on the trade shut down with the US alone, Canadian musicians, clothing brands, food chains, and everything started popping up everywhere without their American counterparts beating them out. Canadian culture was expanding.

Maybe the war wasn't needed after all...

Mathieu shook his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. He was going to prove to the world that his people _can_ fight, they _can _wage war and win. Especially with Russia on their side.

"Are you alright, Matvey?" The blonde looked up and across his desk to the massive nation seated in a plush and rather expensive leather chair.

"Yeah, yes," he picked up a pile of slightly scattered papers and re-arranged them, shooting a nervous smile at Ivan, "I'm just a little worried, is all."

Ivan blinked in mild confusion. "Worried? But everything is going well, da?" The Canadian laughed softly and nodded, passing the papers over. His shaking hands did not pass notice. "You miss him, don't you?"

Canada flinched and looked to the side. Bulls-eye. Ivan could read him very well. "Yes, I do." he sighed softly, "He's my brother, though. Of course I miss him." He placed his head in his hands and sighed, knowing very well that this was barely the beginning. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see his people building weapons of war: Battleships and and jets more advanced thanks to his agreement with the Chinese government. Missiles and ammunition were mass-produced, along with tanks and guns of all sorts. It made the quiet nation both giddy and scared.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a large, gloved hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Ivan smiling softly, almost knowingly at him. "I know how you feel, da. All of my family left me after the Soviet Union fell – now even my own sister won't speak with me. Then again," he chuckled softly, though the look in his eyes was sad, "that may be because she owes me a large sum of money." The Russian made an 'up!' gesture and held his arms out, and Mathieu smiled and stood to accept the hug.

He was mildly surprised to discover that Russia smelled faintly of flowers, masked by vodka.

X.x.X.x.

Several meters underground, beneath a heavily fortified military installment in Manitoba, a blonde man with glasses over cerulean blue eyes donning a well-fitting Army dress uniform strode down the rows of hundreds of workers manufacturing various stages of military equipment, his hands clasped behind his back and medal honours enough for two World War Two veterans o share between them jingled in-time with his steps.

Mathieu still managed to feel extremely out of place amidst the generals beside him, who were busy filling him in on everything the men and women were building. The last time he had seen weapons of war being produced at this scale was over Seventy years ago, and even then, there wasn't nearly this many people or machines being built. He felt a chill go down his spine and attempted to hide his smile with a nod, pretending that he was listening to the stout man on his right.

The trio paused briefly when a woman approached them, and he followed as she lead them off to a massive hanger.

What Canada saw made him take off his glasses to clean them quickly before he replaced them on the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, these will do just wonderful." He crooned, a maniac smile creeping across his lips. Oh yes, these planes were perfect. A sheet on a clipboard that was passed to him confirmed his hopes. Capable of going above the speed of sound, specially designed for stealth flights – they slipped through even the best radars – and sported the best in missile technology. Two-man cockpit, yes, and – oh, precision bombing capability. It could even be flown remotely. He doubted America would expect him to have anything like this. Not since his beloved Avro Aero. "Absolutely wonderful."

Tucking the clipboard under his arm, he clapped his hands together once and smiled. "Well, gentlemen, shall we start a war?"

X.x.X.x

**Well, lovelies, look at what I updated. It's relatively short and..odd, but we're building up somewhere, trust me.**

**This was delayed due to my muse hating me and throwing Canada out the window. Poor kid. But I found him! So I'll try to update this once a week or so.**


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